


as a new day dawns (we'll go on)

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Series: Whatever Else Comes AU [6]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Dad!Donald, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: Della has been living in the same bedroom where she and Donald grew up, but she needs a change.
Relationships: Della Duck & Dewey Duck & Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Della Duck & Donald Duck
Series: Whatever Else Comes AU [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547776
Comments: 12
Kudos: 159





	as a new day dawns (we'll go on)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to loosely, tentatively call this the end of the main Whatever Else Comes AU arc! This has largely been a story about Della finding her (new) place in a world that turned on without her and everyone else finding a place for her and the changes she brought, and this is a pretty small, quiet piece about how she and Donald are figuring out what that really means.  
> I'm not done with this AU forever - I've said before I have an interest in expanding into episode related plots and other fun little asides - but for now I'm marking the series as finished because the main wecau storyline is done. Tentatively.  
> Thank you so much for exploring this with me and I hope you like it!
> 
> (title from Illuminations: Reflections of Earth's "We Go On")

“I need a new bedroom.”

“What’s wrong with the one you have?” Scrooge asked, not looking up from his work.

“Nothing’s _wrong_ , exactly,” Della replied.

“She’s feelin’ awkward about having Penny sleep over in our childhood bedroom,” said Donald. He snickered at his own dumb joke.

Della smacked his shoulder without looking at him. “You’re supposed to be here for support. If you’re not going to help, you can just leave.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Donald held his hands up. “I already told you I think it’s a good idea.”

“ _What_ idea,” said Scrooge, finally looking at the twins where they leaned against his desk.

“I love our room,” Della said, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “But it’s the room we were kids in, you know? After all this time I don’t – it doesn’t feel like _me_ anymore. Lord knows it doesn’t feel like Donald either, but he’s not living in it anymore.”

“Why not just redecorate the room you _have_?”

“Again, I love our room for what it is. And I don’t feel like it’s fair to Donald to pitch all his old stuff just because I feel like I need a change,” Della said.

“And since we live in a _gigantic mansion_ it’s not like there’s a shortage of bedrooms,” Donald added. “I think it’ll help her get her life together.”

“ _Donald_!”

“I’m helping!”

“No, you aren’t!”

“I’m explaining to the old man why you need a new –“

“ _Insulting him_ probably isn’t going to help my –“

“Nothing too close to my study,” Scrooge said, smiling faintly as he returned his attention to his work.

“What?” the twins asked in unison.

“You can have a new room,” Scrooge said. “Just nothing too close to my study.”

“Woah, okay.” Della took a half-step back. “I – I thought that was going to be a way harder sell.”

“It isn’t, as Donald said, as if we don’t have bedrooms to spare,” Scrooge replied. “Although if the two of you don’t leave me be this instant, I may change my mind.”

“Got it,” said Della.

“Leaving!” added Donald.

They walked together from Scrooge’s study to the room they’d been eyeing for Della. It was currently a largely disused guest bedroom, not too far from the center of the home where the most lived in spaces were – the kitchen, the family rooms, the kids’ rooms and the bedroom Donald slept in when he was in the house – but not so close that she couldn’t retreat to quiet and solitude when she was overwhelmed.

It had bedroom furniture already – queen bed, dresser, side table – but it ws otherwise pretty bare.

A blank slate. And the twins had been given the go to start drawing.

\--

Della sat on the end of her new bed. “Do you think we’re _allowed_ to paint it?”

“Mrs B said it’s cool as long as we don’t make a mess,” Donald replied, throwing drop cloths down at the base of the walls. “And it’s her house, really. Launchpad should be back soon with the paint.”

The door burst open, crashing against the wall with a loud _thunk_. Della lost her balance on the baseboard and fell back onto the mattress. She sat back up in time to see that Huey, Dewey, and Louie had tumbled into the room.

“Are you really painting the walls?”

“Can we help?”

“You should paint it blue!”

“Can we paint _our_ room?”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Donald said. He walked over to where the boys were and scooped all three of them up. “We’ll let you help with the base layers, okay? Now Duckling Pile your aunt while I finish getting everything set up.”

Which was all the warning that Della got before he tossed three fifth graders at her. She squawked in surprise as they landed on and around her.

“Hey Aunt Dell, is it true you’re still legally dead?” Louie asked, flopping across her folded legs and looking up at her.

“Uncle Scrooge said you have to renew your pilot’s license!” Huey said, throwing his arms around Della’s neck.

“Can you teach _me_ how to fly?” Dewey asked, leaning on Della from the side opposite Huey.

“Um, I think so, we’re working on it,” Della answered, a little thrown, “I can’t renew my license until I’m ‘alive’ again and –“

“You’ve been flying without a license!” Huey said, scandalized.

Della rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to get pulled over.”

“Can you teach me how to fly?” repeated Dewey.

“Well that’s really a question for –“

“No,” Donald interrupted. “Not until you’re out of high school.”

“Ugh, _Dad_ ,” Dewey whined. He slid off the bed and walked over to Donald. “That’s like forever!”

“It’s seven years,” Donald replied. He picked Dewey up and carried him back over to the bed and put him back down on top of Louie. “You’re too young to learn how to fly a plane.”

“But Dad –“

“I didn’t start learning until I knew how to drive a car,” said Della.

“You told us, like, a week ago that you learned to drive a car when you were thirteen,” Louie said.

“Della,” Donald said without turning around.

“It’s true!”

“You’re not really helping my cause.”

“You’re kinda helping mine though,” Dewey said, grinning.

“Oh, am I?” said Della, tickling his stomach. He squirmed away, kicking Louie in the process. “Am I?”

Louie shoved Dewey. Dewey shoved Louie. Huey released his hold on Della and scooted away to not risk getting caught in the crossfire. Della wasn’t letting him get away that easily, though, and pulled him forward with an arm around his waist. The whole thing devolved into a tangle of limbs and tickling and kicking and giggling before long.

Dodging a flailing limb, Della looked fondly across the boys at her brother. It was hard, most days, not to feel overwhelmed by how much time had passed, but in a moment like this it was easier to let go and embrace how much these kids reminded her of herself and Donald when they were young without worrying too much about not being young anymore. And god, did they remind her of them. Webby, too, although Della was pretty sure she was out with her friends today. Donald had finished his painting prep, and was sitting on the window seat looking back across the room and watching the chaos with a content smile on his face.

The door, which Donald had shut after the boys arrived, banged open again. Launchpad stood in the doorway, a few heavy looking shopping bags hanging from his elbows. The kids froze, mid struggle.

“Paint time!” Donald announced, crossing the room to help Launchpad with the bags. Huey, Dewey, and Louie all scrambled off of the bed and their aunt, each trying to be the first to reach Launchpad and their father in the doorway. Della got up too, slower, and met them.

“What’s the game plan?” she asked.

“Depends,” Donald said. “Launchpad, you got time to help us paint?”

“Sure, Mr D!” Launchpad replied brightly.

“Great.” Donald pushed Dewey toward him. “Then we’ll each supervise a triplet and start with the base color.”

Louie drifted closer to Donald, which stung just a little but didn’t really surprise Della. Her relationship with him was getting better, she’d been making the time to try to get to know him, but at the end of the day he was Donald’s kid through and through. Huey took her hand and pulled her over to the biggest wall.

Donald distributed the sky blue paint across a few different roller trays so each pair had their own and the six of them set to work. They were able to get the blue onto the walls without too much fuss or mess, which felt a little bit like a miracle.

They took a break for dinner, which was as always a loud, high-energy event. Such was the nature of a household like theirs, especially since Webby and Lena and Violet had come back to the mansion for the evening and Launchpad was staying for dinner with the family since Drake and Gosalyn were out of town for a hockey game and wouldn’t get home until late. Donald had his eyes on Della as the meal ended, watching her respond less and less and fall into a quieter more observant place in the conversation.

He pulled her away after dinner.

“You ready for part two?” he asked. “No kids this time, it can just be you and me. But if you want to chill by yourself for a while we can do it tomorrow.”

“No I – I’m good,” Della replied. “Just you and me. Some sibling bonding time, eh?”

Part two of the plan for Della’s walls required a little more patience and artistry than rolling paint onto walls. The twins worked slowly, well into the night, with smaller brushes and teamwork to execute their idea.

The sun rose on the two of them flopped across each other sideways on the bed, having finished their work late the night before.

Della woke up with a pink wash of light flooding the room from the large bay window on the eastern wall and her brother curled up next to her, their legs tangled together. She shook him gently.

“Don, wake up,” she said, “c’mon, wake up. You’ve got to see this, it’s _perfect_.”

“Wha’ddya want?” Donald asked groggily. He waved her hand off and sat up slowly. “ _Oh_.”

Their project – part two of many on the _help Della feel like a grown up living a real life_ plan – absolutely shone in the early morning light.

The blue they’d chosen for the main wall color was the clear, warm blue of a summer sky, and they’d spent all night spreading large, fluffy clouds across it. In the light of sunrise, Della’s bed felt like it was soaring through the sky.

It was like flying, but at the same time felt very earthbound. There was no sky on the moon.

Completely without her permission, tears started forming in Della’s eyes.

“I really am home, right?” she asked. “This is real? I’m not dreaming?”

“Oh, Dell,” replied Donald, pulling his sister into a tight hug. “It’s real.”

And wasn’t that just amazing? Della Duck, home and safe and sound. With a place in her family again – not the one she’d been expecting, not by half, but a place – and a space that didn’t still feel like her thirteen, fourteen, fifteen-year-old self. She cried into her brother’s shoulder for what felt like hours, until Huey came looking for them to help make breakfast, and then life went on.


End file.
